


dark and violent, full of butterflies

by staellula



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Angst, Attempted Murder, Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, Diego Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Drama, Non-Graphic Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Parallels, Protective Diego Hargreeves, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:55:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26326753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staellula/pseuds/staellula
Summary: as the daughter of one of the so called “majestic twelve”, you knew that what your father did was somewhat dangerous, but you had no idea how that could affect you personally. after a failed attempt on your life, one of your father’s powerful friends entrusts his son, diego, with your safety. the only problem is that he happens to be your long forgotten childhood crush - what could go wrong, then?
Relationships: Diego Hargreeves/Reader
Comments: 15
Kudos: 45





	1. part one

Every hit on the punching bag echoed loudly through the empty, dark gym. Every heavy breath, grunt and whimper as the boxer took out his frustration, that had been building for god knows how long - it’s been a long week - on the poor piece of sand filled cylinder. After hours at The Fighting Lion was Diego Hargreeves’ favorite time of the day, where he could be alone and away from everybody’s bullshit (even his own), for a little while.

That night his peace was short lived, though. From the corner of his eye, he saw a tall, large man approaching from the darkened entrance. He didn’t need to look away from what he was doing to know who it was. Diego would recognize his brother Luther by his broad shoulders and characteristic walk alone, it was hard to miss his presence in a room or in a crowd, even when they were younger. 

Not minding the other man’s arrival, Diego kept his assault on the punching bag. He thought that, maybe, if he pretended to be busy enough, Luther would leave. It’s not that he didn’t want to see him - believe or not, with all the problems and quarrels they had, he still cherished the few and far between moments he had with his siblings. It’s that he could already guess what was the reason for this unexpected visit, and thus, was already hating the conversation that was to follow.

“I knew I’d find you here.” Luther pointed out, stepping into the light and making himself known. “I figured, if you weren’t home... where else would you be?”

With something between a sigh and a huff, Diego stopped the equipment with his hands and started to remove his black boxing gloves and the bandages on his hands underneath.

“What do you want?”

“You know, I caught your fight the other day… Didn’t know The Kraken was so good at what he does.” Try as he might, his brother was never good with jokes - or lighting up the mood for that matter. Which made sense, with him being the oldest of seven, he was all work and no play and too much responsibility. 

"We both know you're not here to talk about boxing. Spit it out, big boy."

Luther made a pained expression, as if bracing himself for something - and Diego didn’t like that one bit. The blond then mumbled something under his breath, which his brother could not understand. Diego stared at him dead in the eye and furrowed his brows, urging him with one slow nod of his head.

"Dad wants to see you." Luther says, again, more clearly.

That was the answer Diego knew was coming - and the one feared the most.

When he left home at seventeen, he vowed to himself to never talk to his father again. The only thing that kept from turning his back on his family entirely was the love he had for his mother and the sense of responsibility he had to his siblings - Diego couldn’t just leave complicated Klaus or sweet Vanya behind, in the end, it just wasn’t like him to disappear on them like that. But he did keep his distance, as far from the memories of manipulation and abuse as he possibly could.

However, after their mother passed and the shitshow that followed, they’ve all gone their separate ways - and without a single word from daddy dearest to any of them. And now, more than ten years later, suddenly he wants to talk. 

“Yeah?” Diego let out a humourless laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Wish I was. Went home to pick up some things I still had left there and he called me into his office to talk. Turned out, he tried to reach you but couldn’t get a hold of you, so he asked me to come here.”

That was not exactly how that went down. 

One morning, a few days before, Diego was leaving his apartment building when he noticed he was being followed by a discreet, black car. When it stopped, the driver - a creepy looking old man in an old fashioned suit - silently approached him and handed him an envelope with a letter in it. The sender was Reginald Hargreeves, and he didn’t even need to open it to know that he wanted nothing to do with it. 

So, he did what any responsible and emotionally mature man would do. He ripped the envelope to tiny little pieces (completely out of spite), threw it in the nearest bin and went on with his day. Not without overthinking about it for the rest of the week, of course.

“Did he tell you what he wants? Because this seems awfully suspicious and I don’t have time for his little games anymore.”

“No, man. He just asked me to ask you to go home and talk to him and I didn’t have the guts to tell him no. You know how he is, he stares at you with those cold, dead eyes and you can’t say no.”

“Or is it because you still can’t stand up to him?” The look on Luther’s face was enough to make Diego immediately regret saying that, so he looked away.

“You know, you’ve gotten so big sometimes I forget what a sensitive bastard you are.” 

His brother closed his eyes and shook his head negatively. “Just go see what he wants, okay? If it’s bad then I’ll owe a drink. As many as you want.”

 _What the hell?_ Diego thought. _What else do I have to lose?_

“I’ll hold you to that, bro.”

As the double glass doors closed behind him and he stepped foot on the foyer, Diego was already regretting coming here.

It was overwhelming, the oppressive energy the empty, big house gave out. Maybe it was the weight of everything that happened here over the years, or maybe it was just the horror of meeting his father again after a decade of very comfortable silence and distance, finally sinking in.

On his way to the living room, he stopped to look at his mother’s portrait on top of the mantle piece. It was a picture of her in her youth, with her perfectly curled blonde hair and her kind, blue eyes he missed so much. There were smaller photographs under it, a dozen picture frames with snapshots of his childhood. When he looked at it, it felt like it all happened to another person, in another life, perhaps - he spent so much time alienating himself from his old life that his perception of it changed.

From behind one of the plush chairs facing the fireplace, comes his father’s voice.

“Took you long enough.”

“And it’s taking me long enough to leave already. I’m just here because Luther asked. That was smart of you, by the way, I’ll give you that.” Diego said, approaching him. Reginald stood up at his response.

“You won’t have to stay for long, don’t worry about that.” The older man pauses and takes the time to remove his monocle - his signature monocle, the one his children rarely saw him without - and methodically clean it with a small handkerchief. Diego’s already lacking patience was thinning each second he stood in that living room, his father’s little diversion wasn’t helping. “I was wondering, do you remember Y/L/N, one of my associates?”

“Barely. Why?”

“His daughter, Y/N, suffered a threat on her life not too long ago. A home invasion, the girl barely escaped with her life. It would have been a tragedy, really, but she was smart enough to run away in time. We suspect this little stunt has something to do with the leak of information on our latest project, so we decided to take responsibility over it.”

At the mention of her name, Diego started to listen more closely. He didn’t remember much of her, but he did have a distant memory of a distinct, shy little girl who played with his sisters during his father’s long and boring cocktail parties when they were children. Even though he didn’t see her in years, the thought of that little girl getting hurt made him sick to his stomach - and it made him even more sick to know that his father, somehow, had a hand on it.

He silently waited for Reginald to continue.

“Where I’m trying to get here, is that I have a job to offer you. The girl needs protection, and with your skillset, you would be more than fitting for her security detail.”

Diego scoffed, incredulous of what his father was proposing. “This is ridiculous. Why can’t the police handle it? The feds? What makes you think I can do this?”

"Well, we both know that the Federal Bureau of Idiots is filled with incompetents and traitors and we wouldn't want a bright young woman like her to be in more danger than she already is, wouldn’t we? We need someone we can trust.” Reginald stated, matter of factly. “Besides, her father is willing to pay a fair amount to anyone who is willing to take this position.”

The mention of money was tempting, really. His job instructing muay thai and mixed martial arts and self-defense classes wasn’t very compensating, financially, and even though he made some money on the side fighting - and winning - boxing matches, it wasn’t enough to pay the bills some months. While Diego considered his options, Reginald took a small notepad from his pocket and scribbled on it. An address, he noticed.

Taking the white piece of paper in his hand, he said “I’ll see what I can do.”

Just as Diego was about to leave, already facing the entryway, he remembered to give his father a little piece of his mind.

“Just know that I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it because that girl doesn’t have to pay for whatever shady shit you and those majestic assholes are up to.” 

He doesn't have to look back to know that his father's cold gaze isn't directed at him either.

"As long as it's done, what difference does it make, boy?"

There was something completely out of place about the man standing beside your mother's floral patterned couch. 

The second worst thing about your week so far (obviously besides having two armed lunatics with freakish cartoon masks break into your apartment in the middle of the night and barely escaping with your life) was being forced to go back to your parents' house. Your old home.

After earning your independence and leaving, you thought you'd never be back here like this - trapped and feeling lost, the way you did years ago. Only this time it wasn't just your father's oppressive silence behind his office's closed doors or your mother's incessant meddling, it was the uncertainty of where your life was going right now.

You tried not to think of the incident itself, because if you did, you'd put yourself through a panic attack every time, without fail. But you couldn't stop questioning yourself why. 

Ever since you were a little girl, you knew that whatever your father for a living was top secret. There was something ominous about what happened behind closed doors, the meetings with a dozen other sharp suited, important looking men, the impromptu business trips, the hushed tone he would use on innocent looking phone calls. Everything was so secretive that he'd never even talk about it at home, no matter how many times you asked, simply out of innocent curiosity.

Now that you were older, it was clear that something wasn't right. You knew enough to know that a bunch of old, rich men with various degrees of ties to the government having mysterious meetings and suspicious business with each other was never a good sign - but you’d never guess that whatever your father has been up to for decades would threaten your safety.

Until that fateful Tuesday night, that is.

After everything that’s happened, you were easily startled. On the way here (because your stubborn self couldn’t stand being locked inside for more than two days, so you sneaked out to get some fresh air) you felt like a kid again, on those nights were you had to run back to your bed after turning out the lights, trying to escape the demons your childlike imagination made you believe were out to get you if you didn’t make it under the covers in time. Only, now, the difference was that those demons were very much real people with big guns - who could be anywhere, because you had no idea what their faces looked like - and absolutely no mercy.

With all that pent up anxiety, imagine how you felt when you got inside, an eerie silence enveloping the whole house, and there, standing in the living room with his back to you, among the pretty pastel colors and delicate decorations, was a man clad in black from head to toe, his sturdy combat boots and black denim jacket sticking out from the muted background.

Paralyzed in place, all you could do was stare. The man must have sensed your presence, because he turned around - and as soon as you saw his face, your eyes widened and you held your breath. He also had a stunned look on his face, as if he was caught in the headlights, too - but the stranger said nothing, only silently ran his eyes over you before holding his gaze to your face.

What startled you was that this man was no stranger. Sure, he looked different - you hadn’t seen him in many, many years. That cute, teenage face from your memory is now one of a grown man, with hardened features, a short stubble and a few scars - including a long one on the left side of his face, coming from his closely cropped black hair to the middle of his cheek - that told you something more than just appearance changed in him along the way. But those brown eyes, those haven’t changed a bit - when you look into them, that’s when you realize.

_Oh._

Oh, no. Is that…

“Diego?"


	2. part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> reader and diego get used to their new routine and, although they get more comfortable with each other every day, it's only the calm before the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a shorter one. i had a really busy week but i didn't want to go too long without updating, so here it is 💘 thank you for reading!

After the initial shock had passed, you could only sit and listen.

When you were about to ask Diego - because that was, in fact, the Diego Hargreeves you remembered, confirmed by himself when he responded to your previous inquiry with a “Hey, Y/N” - what the hell he was doing in your parents’ living room of all places, your father waltzed through the entryway with two glasses of whiskey in hand and offered one to the man in front of you, to which he politely declined.

You, however, could totally use a drink right now.

“Uh.. dad, what’s going on here?” You asked him, as you reached for the glass he placed on the coffee table. By the look on his face you could tell he didn’t like that, but couldn’t say anything in front of the guest. Funny how after not even a month back under your father’s roof, he thought he was still able to control what you were allowed to do. Joke’s on him, though.

“You’ll know in a second, dear. Please sit down.”

So, now, here you were, listening to your father talk about you and your current situation as if you weren’t even in the room - and you had no strength to argue with him, so you played nice and waited to see where this was going. As it turned out, Reginald Hargreeves - your father’s associate and a very scary-looking old man, as you recalled - had heard about the incident and offered his son’s services as a bodyguard for your security detail. The plan was to move you into a different apartment downtown where you could lay low for some time until the police could work out who was behind the attack and have them arrested - in that meantime, Diego would stay with you and guarantee your safety.

Confused didn’t even begin to cover what you were feeling right now. You didn’t think that your situation was “security detail” worthy, and apparently it was. Not only that but your assigned bodyguard was former childhood crush, current extremely handsome-in-a-rugged-kind-of-way boxer and martial artist Diego Hargreeves. To say that your life had turned upside down was not an exaggeration in the slightest.

When your father finished, Diego - who was sitting uncomfortably in the too soft, too pink couch that entire time - turned to you, instead of him. “Is that alright with you?”

You were very grateful for his thoughtful gesture, but you couldn’t help but shrug and take another sip from the glass you were holding. 

“Do I have a say in it?” 

“Unfortunately not. But it’s for the best, Y/N.” Your father chimed in.

 _As long as I’m out of here_ , you thought.

“I suppose it’s fine, then. Could be worse. Is it alright with you?” You ask, turning to Diego. You had a feeling you weren’t the only one being coerced into this mess by a father figure.

He looked at you with something like sympathy in his eyes and nodded.

As Diego and your father stood and shook hands, you downed the rest of the remaining whiskey in one go.

It took only a couple of days to move you and Diego into the small apartment across the city and a couple more for you to get used to your new surroundings. 

In the first days he made sure the place was safe - checked if the door and the windows could be properly locked, who the neighbors were, all the possible exits - but after that, Diego kept to himself most of the time, and you did too. If you were honest, most days you didn’t feel like leaving your room at all.

The first real conversation you had was late one night, when you weren’t able to sleep, so you decided that sitting on the couch and staring at the window was the second best option. In your defense, the view of the city’s skyline you had from up here was beautiful and even more so at night, when the lights on the buildings shone like stars. You liked looking at them and imagining what the people inside those apartments were doing or how their lives were like - it helped you distract yourself from the creeping anxiety and fear that struck you most days.

Too caught up in your thoughts, you didn’t notice the small commotion in the kitchen behind you. A little later, a sweatshirt and sweatpants clad Diego appeared in front of you, with a steaming ceramic mug in one hand and the most adorable sleepy look on his face. Adorable was the last word you thought you would use to describe this man, but here you were.

"Figured you could use some." He said, while handling you the mug and sitting beside you. You took it in your hands, the warmth and the sweet smell of tea already calming your spirits.

"Didn't peg you for the tea kind of guy…"

“I’m not.” He admitted. “But I remembered one of my sisters liked making some when she couldn’t sleep, so…” Diego seemed almost bashful as he sat there explaining himself. You didn’t know what to say, so you just nodded and thanked him.

After a couple minutes of comfortable silence, you thought he would get up and leave, but instead, he started talking.

"I'm sorry I'm not…" He trailed off, looking lost in thought for a moment. "I'm sorry I'm not the best company. I'm not used to having people around, I've been living alone for such a long time I forgot what it's like. You must be feeling lonely."

You wanted to tell him that you're used to it. Loneliness.

It was like an old friend, one of those you don't really know how to part ways with, so you keep it around even when keeping it doesn't make sense anymore. Having Diego with you was actually comforting, his solemn and quiet presence, never too far from you at all times, brought you a calmness that you hadn't felt in a long time.

"It's fine, don't worry about me, you're doing enough as it is." You tried to reassure him. "I feel like I've always lived alone too, y'know, even as a child, in that big house… I felt alone, I think, even if I wasn't."

Your sudden honesty surprised you. It surprised Diego too, who was listening closely to your confession - the open expression on his face made you look away, focusing your attention on the steam coming out of the mug beside you.

"At least now we can be alone together, right?"

That was the last thing you expected him to say, but God, did it sound great. “Yeah…” You chuckled. “I guess we can.”

On another restless night, you convinced Diego to go on a walk with you.

At the beginning he was adamant about not letting you leave. Said that it was too dangerous, that we didn’t know who else knew we were living here, that there could be someone out there just waiting for us to walk outside to attack. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about any of these possibilities, but you couldn’t stand being inside these walls for one more minute.

In the end, though, you stubborn pleas won and the both of you left for a late night walk through the neighborhood. Feeling the fresh air and seeing different people, listening to all the different sounds that filled the night around you was enough to make you feel a hundred times better already.

“You ever thought about who was the first to call them Majestic?” 

“No…” You laughed at Diego’s attempt of making small talk. In the past few days since your late night conversation, you and him were having an easier time being around each other. “Maybe they did it? I mean, you and I know them better than anyone else, we know how highly they think of themselves.”

That was his turn to laugh. “Oh, yeah. Can you imagine…”

You could hear Diego talking, somewhere in the back of your mind, but something else caught your attention. A block in front of you, you saw the blurred image of someone in a suit - a simple, black one, with a matching black tie - suspiciously similar to the ones the people in masks were wearing that night at your apartment. The resemblance knocked the breath right out of you, as if the world stopped. You stopped walking, which drew Diego’s attention.

You turned to him and said, in a small, trembling voice “I think you were right… maybe we shouldn’t have left the apartment…”

You didn't want to admit that the simple sight of someone in a suit made almost completely shut down, but that's what just had happened. As you looked around for a way out, like a cornered animal, you started to walk backwards, away from Diego and towards the road, without noticing. He, on the other hand, took two long strides and held you in place.

“Hey, hey! It's okay, Y/N." The feeling of his large, warm hands holding the shoulders ground you in the moment. If you weren't feeling so panicked maybe you’d appreciate how warm and nice he felt standing so close to you. “What happened? Did you see something?”

“I’m sorry.” You tried to work through what you were feeling. You knew that that person on the street wasn’t one of your pursuers, but the impression of imminent danger was too real. “I feel like there’s something wrong, like _I’m getting a I have a bad feeling about this_ , Obi-Wan type of thing, you know?”

"I know. But I also know that I'm here now. You've got me, and I'm not letting anything happen to you, okay? I promise."

All you can do is nod your head and take a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry I made you go out with me, really. Maybe it’s best for us to stay, like you said…”

“No, it’s fine. It’s fine. Look, we can go out a little bit everyday, and if you don’t feel well, we can go back home. You don’t have to be sorry, I understand.” Diego lifted his right hand and briefly touched your face, his brown eyes locking into yours. You nodded again, not trusting your voice. Then, he silently let go - only to take your hand and guide the both of you back to the way you came from.

Neither of you let go until you were at the front door.


	3. part three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things get a little more serious when reader and diego get a little irresponsible.

There were times when Diego looked at you and saw Vanya.

You and his sister looked nothing alike, but, sometimes, the sorrowful look that would take over your eyes was one he'd seen in hers, growing up. Getting to experience up close the deep melancholic state that you'd fall into not only scared him, but it also made him question if he couldn't have done more for his sister.

The truth was that he couldn't - and, deep down, he knew that. None of them could. They were all just children, but the guilt ate at him anyway. It was a powerful feeling though. The feeling that he could do better this time. Mainly for you, but for her, too, in a way. 

It was funny how things happened so fast. When Diego accepted this job, he had told his father he would do this for you, and not for the old man - but the truth is he said it out of spite for his father, because, at the time, he barely remembered you. For all he knew, you could have been one of those snotty rich kids with influential parents he grew up with - and honestly, that would have been easier. 

Instead, the more time he spent with you, the more he came to admire your resilience. Your sweetness, despite all the shit life’s thrown at you. The way you were always considerate of his feelings and wants, even if you didn’t have to - he was just a stranger doing his job, after all. But, with time, you became close. Not just because it was basically just the two of you, together all day, because you understood each other - you understood each other’s pain and resentment and you respected it.

As a result of your kindness, Diego couldn’t tell you ‘no’. After the first night you’ve left the apartment - even with its bumps - you wanted to leave more, and he shouldn’t have let you. He shouldn't because he had strict orders from both yours and his father that he was not to let you out of the building at any circumstance, except in the case of an emergency, until the case was solved. He shouldn’t, but he did it anyway.

It was a risk he was willing to take to see you happy.

You were sitting on a bench, side by side, in a park you found during your daily night walks, not too far from the apartment. Diego was looking forward, never too distracted, but from the corner of his eye he could see the smooth yellow light of the lamppost hitting your content face.

"Why do they call you The Kraken?"

Your question came out of nowhere, after a couple of minutes of comfortable silence. He turns to you, then, and you have a little mischievous smile on your face. 

"What?"

"In Boxing, why do they call you that?" You begin. "Do you have any tentacles I don't know about?" 

Diego laughed. He had no idea where you got that from - he’d never told you his moniker. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Now it was your turn to laugh, and you did it openly, tilting your head up. He didn’t think he’d ever heard you do that, but he decided he liked the sound of it a lot.

"Seriously, though, why is it?"

"I got knocked out pretty bad during a match, years ago, when I started. Stopped breathing for a few minutes, think I should have died but they saved me in time." You reacted silently, nodding at him - so he continued. "After the scare was over the guys at the gym started teasing me, saying I wasn’t human, then one of them brought it up, the sea monster… It’s kinda dumb, really…”

“I don’t know, sounds intimidating.” You pondered. “Just don’t die on us again, I kinda need you around.” That last part was more hushed, as if you weren’t quite sure about voicing it. It makes him smile, though. 

“Lucky for you I don’t have anywhere better to be.” He teases, then, trying to break your sudden shyness. You faked an exasperated gasp at his jest and shoved him with your shoulder - he barely moved, but the effort was still cute.

“Is that how it is, then?”

“Yeah. That’s how it is.” He relaxed against the bench again, resuming his position looking forward.

He was the first to see them.

Two people - a large white man and a black woman, both wearing suits - standing beside a blue car, at the other side of the street. At first glance he didn’t think much of them, didn’t have a reason to, until he saw the woman fix something underneath her suit jacket - something suspiciously looking like a gun - that was he remembered you describing your attackers as “two people, a man and a woman, dressed in suits, wearing cartoon animal masks”. 

The connection filled him with dread. You were out in the open, there was no way you could have escaped unnoticed. Diego’s mind started running, thinking of ways to get out of there safely, but there was no easy way of doing it. He cursed himself mentally, a scowl taking over his previously carefree face. 

You must have noticed it, because you called him. “Diego?”

He didn’t know how to tell you that - you’d been doing so well - but he had to get out home, as soon as possible, so you would have to be strong, just one more time. 

Before he could make the first move, though, you followed his line of vision to the couple of suited assassins, still pretending they didn’t see you. Your reaction was immediate - Diego felt you freeze beside him, your body backing into the bench, your eyes as wide as saucers.

You hand instinctively shot out to his, and he took it in his hold, praying it would help.

“Y/N.” He called for you, tugging lightly at your hand. “Look at me.”

When you didn’t, he insisted. “Look at me.”

“They… they are… We need to…”

“Leave. I know.” He looked directly into your eyes, hoping it would bring some type of reassurance. “It’s wide open here, there’s not much they can do without getting caught. So we’re just gonna get up, and walk the other way, okay?”

You nodded slowly, too shocked for words. Diego got up first, then you did, standing up on trembling legs and not letting go of his hand. He pulled you forward, in the direction of the other side of the park. You walked fast, but not too fast so as not to raise suspicion - you didn’t dare to look back, but Diego did, and your pursuers were not too far behind, hot on your trail. 

Walking on the opposite way of the apartment was smart, but the street you fell on was darker, some of the streetlights were broken. Diego tried to keep his head clear, but all he could think of was that this was his fault - if he hadn’t been so permissive, maybe you wouldn’t be experiencing all this again. He feels you clutch his hand tighter, stepping carefully beside him.

That’s when you heard the first shot. 

It was dark, so of course it would have missed. You both made it to a run, then, being followed by more shots. When you gained a little advantage on them, Diego pulled you hastily on the first alleyway you encountered, backing you up against the hard brick wall on the side of the building, shielding your body with his. He listened to your uneven breathing, but you seem to be still with him and not completely given into shock. 

When there were no more sounds of shooting, or nearing steps, he stepped back a little to look at you. That’s when Diego realized how close you were.

He could feel his whole body touching yours, your hands rested on his chest in an attempt to balance yourself, your face just inches from him - so much that your noses were almost touching, your breaths mingling with each exhale. Diego didn’t think he’d ever noticed how pretty your eyelashes were, or the inviting shape of your mouth, or how, if he just leaned in a little bit more, he could…

“I think they’re gone now.” 

You brought him out of his trance.

“Yeah, I think they are.”

Neither of you moved.

Still, he saw you take one last tentative look at his mouth and pretended not to notice it - it was better for the both of you if he did. He took a step back, already missing your warmth, but he needed to focus. 

“C’mon. My apartment is not far from here.”

Diego’s apartment was, indeed, not too far from that alley, but to you, the walk there felt like an eternity.

You were beginning to feel tired from running and from the tension the previous scare took over your body - so when you arrived at the small, one bedroom apartment, Diego let you have his bedroom, telling he’d sleep on the couch and he’d be right there if you needed him.

Thing was, you had no idea what you needed at that moment.

You spent the night tossing and turning at his bed, cursing every last bit of your father’s existence and the fact that you got caught up on his bullshit, not even knowing what kind of bullshit it was. Wishing you could just disappear - or that this was all just a big nightmare it took a little while to wake up from - you let your silent tears lull you to sleep as you did.

The next morning didn’t bring your wishes to life, and neither did it bring you a better day.

Your head ached from crying as you slowly got up on your feet, the smell of coffee coming from the kitchen being the only thing that made you want to get up at all - that, and Diego, but you weren’t awake enough to think about those seconds at the alley last night. You forced yourself to not think of the way his face looked so close to yours, or how, even after running for your life, for a moment all you could think of how perfect his lips looked, and if you’d just stood a little on the tip of your toes...

Speaking of him, his voice echoed from the living room. It seemed like he was talking to someone, but there wasn’t anyone else at the place. You sat on the bed and strained your ears to listen more closely, but you could tell he was pacing - sometimes his voice reached you, but in others it became more distant.

“Are you telling me I don’t know how to do my job?”

A pause. The sound of feet rustling on the carpet.

“Look. What if…” Another pause, a car passes on the street. “I don’t care about you, and I couldn’t care less about your daughter, is that…” Diego’s voice wanders again, further from the corridor.

A dreadful feeling takes over the pit of your stomach. You knew Diego kept in touch with your father, but until today you didn’t know how often, or, in fact, you haven’t heard any of their conversations at all.

Now you wish you hadn’t.

Thinking about it, it was too good to be true. Diego was sweet, of course he was, but that didn’t mean he cared - why should he? He was doing his job - one he was forced to do, nonetheless. You felt like an idiot - getting attached, thinking about kissing him, your mind was at the wrong place. Of course you, little old you, would mistake attention for affection - that’s what you did your whole life, this time wasn’t different.

However, you figured it was better this way - knowing how he really felt was better than filling your head with silly fantasies.

It took awhile for you to take courage to face Diego - when you did, he was sitting on one of the couple of chairs beside the small table, next to the kitchen wall. You hoped he didn’t notice the sour look on your face.

“Morning.” You greet him curtly, making your way to the coffee machine on the counter. Your nose wrinkled when you felt it was cold already.

“Morning. How are you feeling?” He asks, carefully.

“Like shit.”

Which is not a lie.

Diego stood up, joining you at the counter. You pulled away from beside him, almost without thinking, not wanting to be too close. You needed to fully process what you just heard before acting normal with him again - you kept telling yourself it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t like you. It wasn’t yours either. It just was what it was.

“Is there anything I can do? We can go back to the apartment later, I just have to…”

“It’s okay. Just do what you have to do.”

You didn’t look at him as you watched the machine heat up the coffee again, but you could see him tilt his head to the side, as if he was confused.

“Are you…”

Before he could continue, the door rattled with the sound of keys, and opened with a start, banging against the wall. Diego put himself in front of you almost immediately, holding the first thing he could find - a bread knife that was laying on the counter.

A man stepped in, then. 

“Is that how you greet your dearest brother, Diego?” The man narrowed his eyes mockingly, shrugging out of his purple jacket. “Put the knife down, man.”

Amused didn’t begin to cover what you were feeling at that moment.

“What the hell are you doing here, Klaus?” Diego inquired, as he removed himself from you and dropped the knife where he picked it up from. His face was scrunched up, but somehow you knew he wasn’t as annoyed as he looked. 

“Needed a place to crash, though you weren’t home.” Klaus said, matter-of-factly. His short, slightly curly hair was all over the place, his eyes smudged with black eyeliner - he looked like he didn’t sleep all night, which you could relate to. “So… who’s the girl you didn’t tell me about?”

 _Just his job_ , you thought.

“Hey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is! sorry for the wait 💜 as always, feedback is very much appreciated and my tired little heart could use from it.


	4. part four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> confusion takes over both reader and diego as they let their miscommunication take the best of them - in the meantime, diego has a meeting with the majestic twelve.

Like his brother, Klaus Hargreeves was different from how you remembered him.

In your eyes, all of the Hargreeves kids were peculiar, in a way. They were a mismatched bunch, all adopted as babies from different parts of the world - what they had in common, though, other than a last name, was their companionship and how fiercely they cared for each other, which you could tell even at a young age. 

Blame it on you being a quiet and overly observant child, but you could also tell the small, almost unnoticeable, flinch on their little shoulders when their father called their names, in his characteristic stern, cold tone. Years ago, you mentioned that in a conversation with your mother, and she told you Mr. Hargreeves has never liked children - didn’t want them, in fact, it took his wife years of convincing until they’ve started adopting the kids. Your mother recalled Grace with warmth, saying she was an incredible woman, but that all her love wasn’t enough to shield them from their father’s neglect. It would be a good time to tell her that Reginald wasn’t the only neglectful parent she knew, but as always, you stayed quiet.

It was hard to remember Klaus without thinking about another one of Diego’s brothers - Ben. While he was - and still is - energetic and playful, all long limbs and hidden cigarettes on his pockets, Ben was a quiet and demure, bookish boy - on the outside, because you’re sure he must have had a penchant for mischief, being so close to Klaus, after all. You heard about Ben’s death from your father, but he never told you how he passed (and you never had the guts to ask Diego, either). 

Now, Klaus was still tall and lanky, but there was a haunted feeling to him, something that went beyond his bloodshot eyes and that he masked really well with off handed humor and sassy attitude.

He and Diego were going back and forth ever since he arrived, while the latter explained to him the reason why you were at his apartment. Needless to say, Klaus was very sympathetic to your cause.

His arrival was not only a good change in your usually dull days, it was mostly a much needed distraction - you’d thank him profusely if you could. What were you gonna do if Klaus hadn’t come - almost literally - bursting through the door? Explain to Diego how upset you were because you misinterpreted his intentions and hurt your own feelings in the process? While overhearing a classified conversation? Yeah, that would have worked just fine.

“How are you holding up, living with this guy?” He pointed his steaming cup of coffee at Diego, who was standing crossed-armed on the other side of the kitchen. “Honestly, I’m already tired.”

Their good natured bantering and inside jokes were nice - it made you happy, but also just a little bit jealous. As an only child, you never had anyone to share your burdens with. The Hargreeves had a lot of them, but at least they had each other.

You give Klaus a half smile, hidden by your own cup. “He’s not that difficult, actually.”

To be fair, though you were shaken, you were not a good liar. “Well, that’s a first.” Klaus looked at Diego, then at you, then back at his brother, delighted. “No one’s called you easy before. What did this angel do to make you go all easy on her?”

 _She almost died twice_ , you almost said.

“She’s not a pain in my ass, first of all.” That worked too. 

“I would be hurt if I hadn’t heard that a thousand times before.” Klaus brushed it off, Diego shook his head, scoffing, and left the kitchen in the direction of his bedroom. “If all we needed was a pretty girl to soften you up, we should have brought her along a long time ago!” 

You snorted, Diego yelled back “Shut up!”

“I’m not sure about the pretty girl, but he really isn’t as tough as he lets you think he is.” Which, again, was true. You’d seen a lot of different sides of Diego in these past few weeks, you knew that, while he was tough as nails in some aspects, there was a vulnerability that was hard to hide in others.

“I’m sure about both.” Klaus confirmed, giving you a conspiratorial wink. 

“Okay, pretty boy, we need to leave.” Diego appeared again, wearing your favorite black jacket of his (why did you have a favorite one? God only knows.) and wiggling his keys at his brother. 

“We? But I just got here!” Klaus whined, taking a bite of his toast.  
“Yes, we. Y/N needs some peace and I have some shit to do back at the gym. C’mon, I’ll walk you to the bus stop.” Diego walked around the room, stopping beside where you were sitting, and landing one hand on your shoulder.

He leaned in and asked, in a lower voice. “Will you be okay?”

You nodded, avoiding to look him in the eye. “Yeah, don’t worry about me.”

“That’s kinda what I do, isn’t it?”

“Fair enough.”

Diego didn’t have any “shit” to do at the gym.

He felt bad lying to you, but when your father called him and he had to tell him about what happened to you last night, including about your nightly escapes from the apartment, he got seriously scolded on how his recklessness put your life in danger once more - as if Diego didn’t feel bad enough for what had happened. He decided that, from now on, he wouldn’t be putting you in harm’s way anymore, and that included not giving you all the information he received. The less you knew, the better.

As if giving him hell over the phone wasn’t enough, your father intimated him to join “him and his associates” on a meeting that day. His associates, meaning, The Majestic Assholes or whatever the government called them. Meaning, also, that his father would be there.

As if his morning wasn’t ruined enough.

All Diego wanted was to stay by your side, his protective pull to you stronger than before, after seeing you so shaken earlier - but now he had a date with twelve sour, middle aged men in a rooftop bar - punishment didn’t even begin to cover it.

After a long and lonely elevator ride, he got to the last floor, out on an old fashioned, hawaiian themed bar. Tacky, to say the least. There were, indeed, a dozen men - including his and your father - in suits sitting in various tables on the main section of the room, discussing in hushed tones - the rest of the place was empty. 

When they saw him, the conversation stopped. With all eyes on him, all Diego did was greet them with a nod of his head. He didn’t think they deserved more than that.

“Sit, boy. We don’t have all day.” Reginald called, not wasting any time. If this was years ago, Diego would have bothered asking his father for a “good morning” or a “how are you, son?”, but now, he didn’t waste time with lost causes either.

He sat silently on a chair farther away from their tables, waiting for them to proceed. The conversation that followed was a long and boring description of what they found, along with the local police and the FBI, the former which was not happy at all to have a third party as your security detail, but couldn’t have any say on it. What they had so far was that, probably, you were being targeted for your father’s leaked research, and those who were trying to steal it were trying to use you as leverage - their guess was that they weren’t going to kill you, but instead take you as hostage for ransom. The bad news was that they still had no idea who was behind those attacks, or who were the masked assassins hired to do it.

Your father was the one to talk the most. His uninterested, casual way of describing your situation infuriated Diego to no end - it was as though the man was talking about one of his experiment subjects, or the fucking weather - he kept referring to you as “the girl”. Emotionless and stone faced, it didn’t seem like his own daughter’s life was on the line.

“She has a name, you know?” It was the first time Diego said anything since he first sat down.

“Excuse me?” The man asked, annoyed.

“Your daughter, Y/N. Just thought you forgot.”

“You’re acting very smart for someone who’s not doing a very good job, aren’t you, young man?”

“No, listen…” 

“No, you listen.” Your father continued, unphased. “You want to talk about Y/N? About how you’ve been putting her danger every single day, ignoring orders and thinking we’d never find out? Please. Don’t act like you’re not on a thin line, Hargreeves. You’re lucky you’re even still in this case. Another one of these stunts and I’ll make sure you never work again in your life.”

Diego stood up abruptly, fuming. He tried to counter, but the words didn’t come out of his mouth. He knew that spitting all that he was thinking at your father would grant him nothing, or worse, would take him away from you, but it was so, so tempting to put some sense into him.

“Are we done here?”

Before your father could start over, Reginald talked first. “Yes. You may leave.”

“I hope we don’t have to talk about this again, Hargreeves.”

If it was up to Diego, they wouldn’t.

From the corridor, Diego could hear music coming from inside his apartment.

He didn’t understand - he didn’t leave the sound on when he left, neither did he tell you about his old stereo in the living room. It was late now, after the meeting he decided he didn’t want to come home to you feeling angry as he was, so he decided to really head to the gym and clear his head a little bit. The sun was starting to set when he headed home, filling the sky with a darker orange glow, the same which was living up his apartment when he stepped inside.

What he found was an interesting scene.

You, an old bottle of tequila he had never opened and was hiding away at the cupboard, listening to an old song playing on the radio and sitting on his living room floor. Diego has no idea how you found said bottle, now more than half empty, or how you discovered the stereo, but, alas, there you were. It was an endearing scene, if it wasn’t for the fact that he knew, for certain, you weren’t drinking to have fun - you were most certainly just trying to forget.

You gasped when you saw him. “You’re home.”

“And you’re having fun without me.” He teased, crossing his arms and leaning on the wall.

“Oh, you wanna have fun?” You laughed, waving the bottle on your hand, your voice a little slurred. “Come drink with me.”

“No, Y/N…” 

“Yes, Y/N!” Insisting, you reached for him with your free hand, beckoning him to come closer. Diego got concerned, your movements were slow and unsure, and even if you were smiling, it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Gotta loosen up.”

Sighing, he sat down beside you, leaning against the couch. He stretched his legs in front of him, his thigh brushing yours - he could feel your body heat through the fabric of his jeans, it was grounding, knowing you were well, as well as you could be in this moment, at least, and right beside him.

He watched you take another swig of the bottle. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

“Maybe.” 

“C’mon, give it to me.” Diego asked, softly, trying to coax it from you. You sighed heavily, letting you face fall. As you put the bottle down, he reached for it, taking it away. “That’s better.”

You stayed in uncomfortable silence for minutes, until you talked first.

“Why are you doing this?”

“This, what?”

“All this.” You gestured vaguely, waving your hands in the air. Drunk you was cute, cuter than normal, he admitted - but he was also confused at what you were implying. “You don’t even like me.”

“I don’t like you? Where did you get this from?” 

“You don’t like me and I shouldn’t even be here.” You slurred, again. Then, you closed your eyes and rested your head on the seat behind you. “It’s okay that you don’t, though. Not everyone does.”

Drunk you was also clueless about what she was thinking. 

“I doubt that.” He gently turned to take a better look at you, still with your eyes closed. “Look at me.”

You shook your head, humming. “Look at me, please.”

“No.” Even without half of your senses, you still had the capability of being stubborn.

“Fine, but you’ll listen to me anyway.” What you didn’t know was that Diego could be even more stubborn than you. “I don’t know where you got that from, but I’m pretty sure you’re impossible not to like.”

A scoff was all he got from you. 

“It’s true. Take it from someone who doesn’t like many people.”

“You don’t have to lie to protect me, you’re doing enough as it is.” 

Slowly, you got on your feet, but your knees almost gave out. Diego was on his in a second, holding you by the arms, steading you in place. The both of you were too close for comfort again, your hands landed on his chest. “I don’t understand you.” He confessed, his face looking down on yours, your lips red and your pupils taking over your eyes, whispering. “If you at least tell me what you’re talking about…”

You pull away, but not after taking a long look at his mouth - if he hadn’t noticed in the dark alley, he definitely did now. “I know everything I’m talking about.”  
“Y/N, c’mon, what has gotten into you?”

You didn’t answer him, you just walked away with uneven steps, dismissing him completely as you closed the bedroom door on his face. Diego had no idea what to think or what to say, something must have happened to you while he was out - but, whatever it was, he was intended to fix it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor d still has no idea what is going on. i'm sorry i'm such a slow updater, it's just how inspiration works for me. anyway, i hope you enjoyed it! ;)


End file.
